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“Tell me,” she said again.
He lifted a lock of her hair and brought it to his nose. It smelled of fresh peaches. “Stacy and her husband Allen are—were—missionaries in Mexico for about three years. While they were there, they became involved with a group that helps citizens escape from the cartel. Mostly people on the cartel’s shit list. This group works to get them into America legally, and illegally in some cases. Whatever they have to do to ensure the safety of those needing to flee the country. The couple stayed after their missionary work ended, and basically took over running the organization. Cartel eventually discovered who they were and wanted them eliminated. Esposito won the very lucrative contract.”
“Oh, my God,” she said on an exhale as she laid her head on his chest. “That’s so fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“So…”
He slid his hands under her shirt and glided his palms up and down the smooth expanse of her back. She practically purred as she burrowed into him. “I never intended to kill any of them.”
“I know.”
Her faith in him was astonishing.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. I was just so shocked by what Esposito said. I know you. I trust you.”
“It’s okay,” he said, ignoring the punch of uncertainty.
She lifted her head. The sincerity in her eyes obliterated any lingering doubt. “No, it’s not. You need to know I have faith in you and know you would never kill innocent people.” She tucked her head back under his chin. “So how’d you get them out?”
“Once I was able to explain to Stacy about the danger they were in, the three of us set a plan in motion. “Between my contacts, the club’s contacts, and Stacy and Allen’s surprising network of connections, we were able to stage their deaths by blowing up their home. Then we snuck them out of Mexico.”
“Hmmm, somehow I think it was much more complicated than you’re letting on.”
She had no idea. In fact, the entire plan almost went south when they encountered a group of cartel enforcers before they’d even finished developing their escape plan. At first, Rocket thought Esposito had sent them to eliminate him, but the old man seemed convinced the targets had been eliminated.
“Where’s her husband?”
Rocket looked at the ceiling, swallowing the lump of sadness that formed in his throat. Allen had been a genuinely good man. One who loved his wife, loved his daughter, and spent his life working to make others’ lives better. “He didn’t make it. We were attacked by members of the cartel outside their house and he was shot. Stacy and I dragged him inside and tried to save him, but he died quickly. We had to alter our plans and get outta dodge early, so we torched the house and fucking fled.”
She brought her hand up to her heart, eyes full of grief. “That poor woman.”
“Yeah, she has a long road ahead of her.”
Chloe ran a soft fingertip over a cut on his forehead. “It was a close call.”
He grunted.
“So what happens to Stacy and Rose now? Will they stay here with us?”
A small smile curled his lips. Had she even realized what she said? Stay here with us? Did that mean she wasn’t planning to run back to her house now that the threat had been eliminated?
“I know someone who runs a women’s shelter a few hours from here. The club has used them in the past when we retrieved some girls Lefty had been selling. Screw will be here in about ninety minutes. We’re going to drive them up there.”
“Should I come?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m pretty sure we’re in the clear but I need you here to act as though everything is normal in case DarkOps has eyes on the house.”
“All right.”
“I’ll be home late tomorrow night, but one of my brothers will be here all day. We’re going to hit up various places. Throw off anyone who may be following.”
“Do you think they are? Watching us?”
He shook his head. “No. Just being overly cautious.”
She let out a breath. “I hate that you’re hurt.” Chloe leaned forward and ghosted her lips over the cut she’d been touching. Then she kissed the bruise around his eye. And the host of additional bruises on his face, neck, and arms.
The gentle touches were so in contrast to the two weeks of violence and stress. When she’d doled her affection on the majority of his injuries, she tucked her head under his chin and held him tight. “I love listening to your heart beat below my ear. It’s the most soothing sound. So strong and steady, just like you, Logan. I was so worried while you were gone. But I shouldn’t have been. You made me a promise and you kept it.”
When the word love passed her lips, the heart she was listening to nearly stopped beating. For a second, he thought an actual profession of love would follow.
